Miami Music Blog

...It's alive and well with "Mini Daddy" a.k.a. Adriansito, and his highly inappropriate mini video vixens. Even if Adrian isn't technically so "-ito," you've gotta love his utter belief that he is, after all, "el nino mas bonito, el nino mas chiquito" -- you're right, that claim doesn't make sense -- and "el nino mas tiernito." We could all take a lesson in self-confidence from Mini Daddy. Sadly, it's damn near impossible to find any kind of official web page from him, so for now, you'll just have to savor this musical nugget slowly. 

​Is it possible to start out a blog on Gloria Estefan without some sort of allusion to rhythm and its getting you? Is it even possible to avoid aforementioned allusion when the place is called Bongo's? Considering how inescapably annoying that song is, probably not. But here's an attempt:

In the spring, Gloria Estefan will be opening Bongo's Cuban Cafe at Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino, which will celebrate Cuba's "glory days" as a Latin paradise with excellent cuisine, tropical atmosphere, and genuine Cuban aesthetics. The main dining room will be designed as a Cuban supper club, "with tiered seating, custom upholstered banquettes, dual drum kits over the bar and a 25-foot open-display rotisserie." Bongo's will also include a high-rollers suite, VIP area, and various bars. But be weary of those who break out in conga lines as they feel the conga beats. Run, before the rhythm gets you, and bad, bad, bad, bad music makes you feel so good.

​Pulp Live announced last week, via its various social networking pages, that it had closed until the venue "finds a new location." Well, that's always the way closing establishments try to put a nice face on it. The club's web site, as I post this, is totally offline.

We say, good riddance. When I visited recently, the place was empty, the door charge was high, the staff was rude, and the bands played unpaid, without even a free pitcher of water.

The space -- which was grudgingly beloved as the Metal Factory -- has potential, with a nice stage and a good layout. Hopefully someone who actually cares about local musicians and audiences will take it over.

via Purfiya's myspace

Diamond and DJ Purfiya

​DJ Purfiya is on the streets grinding.

Not only is the team Slip-N-Slide DJ from southwest Florida not dead, he's living with purpose.

Last week we brought you news of the Purfiya death hoax that was circulated via Twitter.

We also interviewed his former boss, Howard Roberts, CEO and founder of Firmlife Entertainment, who claims to have fired Purfiya over disputes on money and loyalty.

We got an email from Purfiya saying he wanted to respond to those allegations. Here's what DJ Purfiya had to say.

CC by 2.0, via stopnlook's Flickr

Bring plenty of bills to Pulp Live -- performing bands, this means you, too.

Ed Hardy must die.

​The Ed Hardy T-shirt. Nothing is a bigger symbol of douchebaggery in clubland than it. It's a faux-tattoo armor for those too wimpy to get real ones. Bedazzled and they achieve a whole another level of douchiness. Oh, and if you're wearing Affliction you have two strikes against you: you're poor and you're a douchebag.

In a what-took-us-so-long moment, Vagabond's Thursday night party (((Shake))) pays tribute to the eyesore with its "Uber Exclusive VIP Halloween" party. Partygoers are encouraged to don Ed Hardy gear in order to gain free entry this Thursday. Girls, you aren't being left out either. Make sure your ass tells everyone how "Juicy" it is by wearing your favorite Juicy Couture clothing.

But there's more: possibly fictional DJs Danner Von Martenberg (Berlin), Aaron T (back from Ibiza), and Diesto (Tiesto's brother) are all on the bill. Bottle service with pretty sparklers will be poppin' all night, God willing somebody drops five grand for a table.

We wonder how many South Beach patrons will accidentally make a detour to Vagabond and think they fit right in. Yep, douchebags.

By the way, for great moments in brotography or for costume ideas, check out TakeMyBroto.com. Sideways peace sign, y'all!

When Kanye West and Lady Gaga announced they'd be touring together we can't say we were all that excited. Both represent many of the things wrong with pop music. West can't keep his ego in check, and Gaga thinks the more eccentric she acts the more authentic she is. Word of advice to both of you: Focus on making good music for a change. However, the world will be spared from having to witness the probable douchebaggery these two would have brought to the stage since it was announce yesterday that the tour has been scraped.

If you were fooled into purchasing tickets for the Fame Kills tour, which was scheduled to stop December 9 at the American Airlines Arena in downtown Miami, Live Nation announced refunds are available at the point of purchase.

All we are left with was with the "arty" promo video above for the now canceled tour. Thankfully, that is the only damage the world will have to endure from the pair.

N.E.R.D wants to sell you a Kia.

​Lamborghini, Maybach, Ferrari, Kia. Yes, Kia. You don't know it yet, but the South Korean car might be the next thing you'll rollin' down the street on 22s. Auto companies making their brand appealing to young adults through free events isn't exactly new -- Scion has been doing it for years (and I still don't own one, so in your face Scion!) -- but Kia? Seriously? We blame the economy.

Still, with N.E.R.D, The Clipse, B.O.B., and J. Cole playing musical spokesmen for the company all weekend long, some people might have a change of heart. They are part of Kia's The Soul Collective event taking place at Awarehouse (550 NW 29th Street, Miami). The Friday-through-Sunday event is free and open to the public from noon to 8 p.m. The only catch is, for Sunday's N.E.R.D. performance you must test drive a Kia in order to receive tickets. However, Friday's performance featuring B.O.B. and J. Cole and Saturday's performance with The Clipse is completely free, no strings attached.

The event has a preview tomorrow night with Lazaro Casanova and Egg Foo Young on the decks and open bar from 9 p.m. to midnight. You must RSVP for it in order to attend. For more information, visit kiasoulcollective.com.

Ben Thacker

Marilyn Manson performs at Cruzan Amphitheatre August 12

​RollingStone.com reported Friday that South Florida's favorite homegrown freak, Marilyn Manson, contracted swine flu. According to the article, Manson made the announcement via his Facebook page, saying, "So I have officially been diagnosed, by a real doctor, with THE SWINE FLU. I know everyone will suggest that fucking a pig is how this disease was obtained. However, the doctor said my past choices in women have in no way contributed to me acquiring this mysterious sickness. Unfortunately, I am going to survive."

However, that status update was no longer visible Sunday, and the only status pertaining to his health now says "MARILYN MANSON has a clean bill of health and has fully recovered." So, fortunately for his fans, his tour rages on. He'll be in Australia next week, then off to Japan, Sweden, Russia, and on and on through Europe until almost Christmas, when he'll surely have sex with a Christmas tree just to see what it's like to feel pain again. Oh, the holidays.

Manson was part of the Mayhem Fest that made its way through these parts back in August. Read New Times' Music Editor Arielle Castillo's review of the show here.

​The debate between Elvis fans and Beatles fans over which rock god/gods were more important or influential has been waging for half a century. "Paul is still making music!" "Elvis died a has-been on a toilet!" "Elvis shook the establishment!" "Elvis is king!" "Elvis was the hillbilly cat, and the Beatles were a bunch of Brits! Failing to like Elvis is UNAMERICAN!" And on and on and on. It's one of my favorite musical debates because in my experience all parties get incensed.

But lucky for each camp, South Florida will be the destination for exhibits celebrating both:

Boca Raton Museum of Art welcomes "Elvis at 21" on April 20. The exhibit includes 40 large-format photographs by Alfred Wertheimer, who was hired to shoot the star before he became the rock 'n' roll king. And Old School Square Cultural Center celebrates the 40th anniversary of John Lennon and Yoko Ono's famous Bed-in with the traveling award-winning Gerry Deiter exhibit "Give Peace a Chance: John Lennon and Yoko Ono's Bed-In for Peace." This exhibit makes its Florida debut October 5, runs through October 11, and includes 30 large format photographs by Deiter as well as contributor interviews, music, memorabilia, and screenings of Give Peace a Song, Hard Day's Night, and Let It Be.

Who was more popular? Who was more influential? Who do you like more? Share below.

Photo via MySpace

She Wants Revenge with Adam 12 in the foreground.

​We skipped out last night on Adam 12's (of She Wants Revenge) DJ set at LIV's Wednesday night party Dirty Hairy in favor of catching Skream and Benga at White Room. But after reading Adam's Twitter, we sort of wish we had. At some point last night, Adam tweeted: "Fuck LIV, peace out wack ass Miami." What caused such a strong opinion at this point is unclear.

However, when our city is attacked, we feel compelled to defend it. Adam, Miami isn't wack ass, unfortunately, LIV is just a poor representation of it. That's not to say LIV is a bad club -- it isn't -- but it caters to tourists looking to drop huge wads of cash. We wonder if it was perhaps because your set might not have been well received, which wouldn't be surprising to us. The Juan MacLean and Sneaky Sound System got lukewarm responses so don't take it personally.

We really hope you do come back, but maybe next time consider spinning somewhere in downtown Miami.

Update: Adam has tweeted again offering an explanation for the outburst. "I was passing a kidney stone last night and went to LIV anyways, against drs orders, in more pain imaginable. Please disregard prev message."

Er, sure.

via englishlaundry.com

These Weiland-designed pants are pretty hot in an English dandy sort of way.

​Lest you ever be tempted to dance with the devil that is the opioid family, first let's play a little word association game. Okay: Scott Weiland.... What did you come up with? Probably nothing with a really positive connotation, right? Maybe the fact that he contributed the implosion of his old band Stone Temple Pilots, one of the biggest post-grunge success acts? Or that he was most recently summarily booted from our generation's supergroup, Velvet Revolver? Or that he may possibly boast more drug- and intoxication-related charges and rehab stints than musical hits, at this point?

Um, I criticize because I care. Weiland's whole skinny-androgyny-falling apart thing is a link back to rock and roll of yore, a little like Bowie gone bad, Morrisson gone worse. His talent for writing anthemic, cathartic, cryptic choruses still endears him to legions of hardcore fans. But remember, dope is for dope, kids. For real.

Still, this is America -- land of umpteenth chances -- and specifically South Florida, land of umpteenth-plus-one chances. And of course, as I've said before, any modicum of celebrity leads to lucrative South Beach nightclub gigs. And so it is that Scott Weiland will appear in Miami this Saturday, September 18 ... at Mansion! To debut a clothing line (of course)!

The collection is for English Laundry, and you can see photos of the pieces on this web site. (Strangely, the collection is very tie-heavy.) Mansion will fete Weiland and his clothes early in the evening, with an early "mini concert." Wonder who will provide the backing music, and from what era he'll cull his live selections? Old STP classics? The band, of course, reunited last year, so that beef is squashed. But it seems like with the acrimony between Weiland and his former Velvet Revolver bandmates, all those tunes are out.

​Oh Churchill's. Everyone has a favorite (or a few favorite) awesome funny, strange, or just appalling memories of the place. (Anyone remember when a girl just peed on the dance floor during a Municipal Waste show a few years back? Also, personally, I will sadly never forget this chicken-mascot porn shoot I witnessed in the back theater.)

In honor of the venerable venue's upcoming 30th anniversary celebration on September 12, we're inviting you to share your favorite Churchill's memories. Ones from the recent past are especially welcome -- we all mostly know the old-timers' history of the place, but how about the last 10 years?

Leave them in the comments or e-mail me here; I'll share them over the next week leading up to the show.

​Stop. Collaborate and listen: Ice is back with a brand-new, um, nothing. Except, well, he's bringing his old Caucasian rap shtick to the Seminole Casino Hollywood for a free Labor Day weekend show. I mean, obviously it's free. I wouldn't pay to see this 41-year-old white boy sing-talk his way through the hit-laden tracklist of 1991's To The Extreme, would you? 

Pitbull

​That's right Mr. Egg Whites, a.k.a. Mr. 305 a.k.a. Pitbull, got the keys to this wonderful city yesterday. I just saw this in the Miami Herald and you know it's true if it's in the Herald. They are master fact checkers and all that. All I know is that LMFAO is way better with a Pit verse added in and his remix of "75, Brazil Street" is very, very dope. Here's a little bit of this son of Miami's best work.

File this under Hossip.

Jacob Katel

​If you've never seen or heard of Larry Dogg, he claims the title of "Underground King of Comedy in South Florida." He's also got a website that documents his interactions with white families in massage chairs at the mall, big girls getting freaky at the club, rappers, singers, and celebrities. A recent upload to Larry's web site features a diatribe against DJs from the legendary Disco Rick (the hitmaker behind "Wiggle Wiggle," and "Yo Momma On That Crack Rock"). Click here to watch Disco Rick tell you DJs how to do your job.

Worldstar Hip-Hop is one of the most heavily trafficked sites on the Internet. Last week, the site featured a New Times episode of Prunk TV on its front page. As of now it has accrued 70,000 hits and change. Thing is, somebody downloaded it off the New Times YouTube channel, added the Worldstar watermark to it, and then uploaded it to wherever it is they host their videos.

We got jacked, but Crossfade's not mad at 'em. Fuck it, that's the Internet, and that's exactly why we watermark our shit (at least I do). The funny thing is, the same day our video went up on WSHH I wrote a post here with a Miami Herald YouTube video embedded in it. None of their videos are branded in a way that a 10-year-old girl couldn't subvert, and I said so.

​The Miami Dolphins are for sale to the highest musical bidders. Gloria Estefan and Marc Anthony have both recently bought minority shares of the franchise, leaving us all wondering: Who's next? We've compiled a list of 10 most wanted musicians with a tie to Miami who would be great partial owners for the Dolphins. Consider this an open letter to the following musicians:

Luther R. Campbell

Luke Skyywalker of 2 Live Crew fame would be perfect as a partial owner for the Dolphins. First off, "As Nasty As They Wanna Be" needs to be the team's slogan next year, and Uncle Luke would certainly let them use that name free of charge. Secondly, you know the Dolphins cheerleaders could learn a thing or two under his tutelage. The dance routine practically writes itself:

Looks like Afrobeta has caught up with the times and have started a weblog, frequently shortened to "blog." This is an online journal of sorts that may be made available to the public or to only a select subset of readers, depending on the author's choice. In this case, the blog is public and available for your perusal. The main author appears to be Cuci Amador herself. 

You might be asking yourself, "Why should I give a fuck?" You should care because Afrobeta is one of the most fun and best bands to come out of Miami in a while.

The first blog lets us know that Afrobeta hosts the show at Jazid every Tuesday and that before they take over, a fellow named Ben operates an open mike poetry thing. I am assuming that the Ben in question is none other than Nastie's brother, Ben Shahoulian, the same fellow who set up next to the Poem Depot at Artwalk with some hand drummers and a megaphone not so long ago. Keep your eyes peeled and glued to this blog.

Colorado just doesn't know: Don't mess with Little Havana. This is a couple days old (and thus a million years in blog years), but in case you missed it, Pitbull bit back at a rowdy fan in Aspen. It's really weird, actually, to imagine the rapper performing in the Rocky Mountains at all.... But in this video, residents of the crunchy resort town seem to be getting down to Pitbull's party jam "Bojangles." Until, that is, Pit helps some clown onstage who throws money in his face. Not sure what that was intended to express, but watch as our hometown boy clocks the guy without even missing a syllable of the song's chorus.

[Via the305.com]

via brookesworld.com

As I said last week, I don't have anything against Brooke Hogan, and, frankly, as a fellow twentysomething female, I empathize with some of her foibles. But damn, the girl has got to get a new ... aesthetic counselor. Hogan's people have revealed an "exclusive first look" at her new album's cover artwork, and, well... It must be seen to be believed. Follow the jump.

Ian Witlen

Joaquin Phoenix, is that you?

Freelance photographer Ian Witlen was shooting for us at the Crystal Method show at Revolution last night when he spotted what he says was Joaquin Phoenix in the crowd. From the photo it looks like a unshaven guy in a top hat, so we aren't 100 percent convinced its him. However, Witlen says as soon as he shot "Phoenix" he got angry and left the area, so it might have been him (sure sounds like him). As you know, Phoenix was in South Florida recently -- Miami Beach be exact -- where he "performed" for 90 seconds before he pretended to get into a fight.

By the way, you can check out the full slideshow of the Crystal Method's performance last night here.

We live in a world of technologically enabled hyperreality, where video games like Guitar Hero and Wii Fit can make simulated rock stars and Olympians out of the talentless unskilled sad sacks of the planet. So it should come as no surprise that the DJ experience is also now available in canned form. Ãœber-commercial DJ Armin Van Buuren has announced his upcoming release of the new Nintendo Wii virtual DJ game Armin Van Buuren - In The Mix, providing the world with a brand new apathetic shortcut to the already endangered DJ art form.

Proper DJ skills have been in steady decline (or evolution, depending which side of the vinyl purist debate you're on) since CDJs replaced turntables and, furthermore, since MP3s and software replaced records altogether and made it that much easier to mix tracks. Van Buuren's new game allows players to toy around with preset music loops and effects using the Wii console, while attaining mythical DJ status in their own minds. This is doubtlessly going to lower the bar even more. Call me a hater, but whatever happened to getting actual skills in something? Get off the couch, people!    

via xxlmag.com

Rick Ross' cover story for the May issue of XXL was meant to be his hip-hop media comeback, an attempt to quash the corrections officer thing and clear the air on his beef with 50. The thrust of the article is made clear by Ross' cover line quote: "I've never had a problem with credibility and still don't."

The realness, however, does not always extend to his wardrobe, it turns out. XXL posted a letter on their web site yesterday from Louis Vuitton headquarters -- apparently, those gold-rimmed shades Ross sports in the photo are knockoffs!

The rivers of haterade are audibly flowing! Most everybody's bought knockoff junk, but most everybody does not base nearly their entire career on bragging about wealth. Rick Ross' recent single was called "Maybach Music" -- a Maybach car starts, on the low end, at about $350,000. Meanwhile, a pair of Louis Vuitton mens' sunglasses costs, at full retail price, a comparatively low average of about $500.

Read the full letter from Louis Vuitton to XXL after the jump.  

Last year, the $400 million music-themed Hard Rock Park opened in Myrtle Beach, marking "the largest tourist investment in South Carolina history." But seems like while dropping all that dough, nobody bothered to think that oops, the Hard Rock chain of hotels, restaurants, and casinos might care. And beyond this, attendance was poor enough that the park closed just a few months later, last September.

It's reopened, and been rechristened as the "Freestyle Music Park." Oops, nobody in South Carolina knew that was an actual genre's name. Check out this article in Myrtle Beach's Sun News that attempts to school snowbird Carolinians.

Maybe we can buy the name off them and construct the real thing, whose centerpiece, of course, would be a roller rink....

Remember a few weeks back when Flo Rida gave out his cell number during a CNN interview? His number is 305-528-2786. You'd have to be NASA to crack the code from this number to mine -- or you'd have to be two adolescent fans of the head-spinning MC.

Unknown texter (8:15 p.m.): Hey is this flo rider

Michelle C. (9:08): Only on Wednesdays -- sadly, you just missed it. Who is this?

UT (9:11): Only on Wednesdays [what]

MC (9:12): ...am I Flo Rida. You texted me first... Who is this?

UT (9:13): So this is flo rider

MC (9:15): No, it's not, since it's Thursday. If Flo Rida is who u seek, please wait six days to reply...

UT (9:16): [What] r u a person or a computer

UT (9:16): Please dont block my number if ur flo rider i love ur music and so does my [whole] school one day we were shouting ur song the teachers got mad

MC (9:18): This is not Flo Rida. I am not even a fan of Flo Rida. Stay in school, kid.

A. Vanderkooy

The Freakin' Hott in freakin' action.

Besides seriously rocking the fuck out, directly channeling an imaginary bastard love child of Kimya Dawson and Bob Stinson, and having the best ass and the prettiest face in the club, respectively, Maggie and Aaron also have the funniest, harshest and most deliciously cynical blog in our shitty little awesome armpit of a state.  They don't use their fancy blogspot or wordtypepadtwitter.  It's a plain old myspace dot com blog that spits out commentary on everything from singer songwriters to Kip Winger with a special soft spot for Parker Lewis.  I tune in whenever a new entry pops up and honestly it's probably the only thing I use MySpace for these days.  Did I mention they are also on a mission to save rock and roll? 

Show time was at 8 and I - clutching my bowl of cereal - didn't even think about the shitty sideshow going on at the AAA.

Now it's 9, the cereal is gone, and if I had a box full of fucks I still wouldn't give one away to find out if Britney stopped for a Frappuccino before arriving at the arena, putting on a top hat, and cracking that whip I love in the second verse of "Circus."

Who carrrrres if the video showing a larger than life set and over-the-big-top wardrobe made me squeeeeal.

Britney, bitch, I wanted to show you my Womanizer-worthy dance moves and mock your robotic vocals, but "your people" or whomever didn't think that the New Times was important enough to earn one of those coveted media passes.

Fuck them, fuck you, and fuck every living soul at the concert right now.

*sniff*

FUCK YA'LL.

I had this epiphany last night, while I was sitting at the Churchill's bar sipping my third Jack and Coke: Every single bar in Miami (and possibly the whole country) has at least one TV set tuned to ESPN at all times. I went outside and saw Penny talking to a police officer. She was drinking a beer and carrying a huge lighter. Penny has been hanging out in the Churchill's parking lot for at least 10 years.

Carl Wilson, ace music writer for the Toronto Globe & Mail, tackles taste at its basest level: in the work of Celine Dion. Through careful ponderings, fan interviews, historical research, Canadian intuition and thoughtful, expert prose, Wilson struggles to understand the hows and whys of the Quebecois Queen, one of the most polarizing global cultural figures of the past decade, a woman whose appeal cuts across cultures and classes to approach a kind of fame seldom seen, and yet who is nearly universally despised among the critical elite.